


Take Your Sorrows and Stick Them Up Your Well

by WellOfShipping



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen, Kink Meme, Past Lavellan/Solas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-01 22:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4037287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WellOfShipping/pseuds/WellOfShipping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Original prompt was too long to fit in its entirety; here's the short version: </p>
<p>"Basically, Lavellan finally snaps because everyone and their mother is shitting on the Dalish from their high horse (a "wtf were we supposed to do?!?" kind of rant if you will.) Then drinks from the well as a giant "fuck you" to everybody. (and also because they are maybe desperately hoping this will help their people out.) Abelas is sufficiently humbled by Lavellan's anger (especially because even after that they ask him to join their fight.) and shows up at Skyhold before or after the final battle(whichever you wish) and things get talked out."</p>
<p>Link to the full prompt on kinkmeme: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/14591.html?view=55168255#t55168255</p>
<p>I haven't actually gotten to the part where Abelas and the Inquisitor meet back up. Working on that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Witch that Broke the Camel's Back

**Author's Note:**

> First work on this website, also first work in around seven years or so?

When Solas had claimed superiority over the Dalish because of his ability to walk the Fade and the knowledge he gained from doing so, she had been irritated. When Abelas called her a shemlen and disowned the “shadows wearing vallaslin,” she had been angry. But now Morrigan—a human!—was claiming that studying lore made her more worthy of the well’s power—that “she alone” could use this relic of elvhen history—and Ellana was furious. Every snide comment, dismissive gesture, and judgemental look she had tolerated over the last four years came rushing back.

“Let me tell you about the heritage you would so quickly dismiss. You speak of lost lore and ancient mysteries, as if I knew nothing of the sort. The Dalish still tell stories dating back to Arlathan, because the Dalish still remember being driven from Arlathan. And we endured. When we died in droves along the Long Walk from starvation and exposure, we endured. When we built Halamshiral from the ground, we endured. When the human Chantry declared a holy war, took our second home, and banned our religion, we endured. My people have no home, and our memories have somewhat faded with time, but for the first time in our history, we are truly free, and we endure.  
“If we fail to live up to your standards, then blame the elvhen of Arlathan for their wars; blame the Creators for their foolishness; blame Tevinter for driving us from Arlathan; blame the Chantry for taking Halamshiral. But never blame the Dalish. What little we have left of our culture, we have defended with our blood, sweat, and tears, in defiance of empires. I will never be ashamed of my people for failing to live up to the legends of Arlathan; we were failed by our gods themselves, and yet we endure while the gods do not.  
“I am Ellana Lavellan, First of my clan, direct descendant of the elves of Halamshiral and Arlathan, keeper of the lost lore and walker of the lonely path, sealer of rifts and leader of the Inquisition, and you dare call me unworthy?”

In retrospect, Morrigan didn’t really deserve this outburst. In truth, it was the culmination of four years of grievances from hundreds of different people, and really shouldn’t have been unleashed on any one person. If it did have to be directed at a particular individual, it probably would have best served as an entreaty for Abelas to join the Inquisition. Unfortunately, said ancient elf had skedaddled shortly before the rant began and thus had missed the entire thing. Or maybe that was fortunate; he probably just would’ve said something maddening about quick-blooded shemlen tempers or something. At least Solas looked suitably remorseful. Morrigan, for her part, looked genuinely frightened, which was the first instance Ellana could recall of that happening. She realized that she had come to physically loom over the witch at some point during her tirade, and she straightened and took a step back.

“ _I_ will drink from the well,” she hissed, glancing at each of her companions in turn, daring anyone to object. No one did. Ellana waded into the small pool, cupped her hands, and drank.

—

Though it might not have been directed at him, Abelas had heard far more than the Inquisitor suspected. He had loitered in the shadows, just out of sight as her impassioned voice carried a speech about her people to his ears. He had scoffed when he heard her start, lingering out of some morbid curiosity over what trivial matters might enrage these shadows calling themselves elvhen. What did they know of suffering? But as he listened, his smirk fell into a frown.

It had been so easy to dismiss the shemlen elves when he could pretend that they were willfully ignorant. That they were irreverent children who cared little for their history. Lavellan’s story painted another picture. These Dalish clung desperately to what scraps of the past they had left, just as powerless to restore the world that was as he himself. The realization was painful; as long as he had been able to distance himself from them, he needed not care about their fate. But now, to realize that these humble vagrants were truly the last elvhen...

No. The other elf, Solas, had promised that their people yet lingered. It seemed the Inquisitor and her shemlen companions failed to recognize his true nature, but to Abelas, it was obvious that the bald mage was elvhen. This could not be what he meant when he spoke of other duties. He would need to discuss his plans with the other sentinels, but Solas’s complete confidence that there would be a place for the sentinels—not to mention the elvhen’s mere existence, after all this time—gave Abelas hope.

—

Righteous fury, as it turned out, was excellent for speech-making but very poor for decision-making. Ellana’s regret was instantaneous as the voices of the well overwhelmed her. Thankfully, she was able to pull herself together enough to open the eluvian and stagger through after her companions, barely closing it in time.


	2. The Sentinels Divided

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sentinels search for other elvhen and fail miserably. Reactions are mixed; Abelas's group decides to go ask Solas what he was on about.

Months passed while the sentinels scoured the Dales. They made a list of every temple, shrine, and fortress they could remember that could plausibly house some of their slumbering kin and split into small groups to search. Wherever they went, they found ruins and rubble at best, but more often, nature had completely reclaimed the once-familiar places. It was also disconcerting to stumble across many ruins of places that had been built, inhabited, and eventually abandoned all during the time the sentinels had slept. As they travelled, Abelas observed his quick-blooded kin—the Dalish, they called themselves—but their ways were strange to him, and it felt somehow improper to intrude on their lives.

—

To be perfectly honest, Ellana never really expected to be able to persuade Abelas or the other sentinels to join the Inquisition or share their knowledge with the Dalish, but she also couldn’t honestly say she hadn’t hoped. Even after she and her companions escaped the temple, some part of her still hoped the ancient elves might turn up. When Solas vanished after Corypheus was defeated, she had hoped—foolishly—that he would return with a platoon of golden-armored elves in tow, especially when Leliana informed her that Solas’s alleged birthplace was an ancient ruin. As weeks turned into months of no contact, however, she had to admit that both his return and the prospect of spontaneously appearing knight-enchanters in golden armor were highly unlikely.

—

The sentinels regrouped at an agreed upon location near the northern border of the Arbor Wilds. They arrived asynchronously, and as more groups returned, morale sank lower and lower. No one had been successful. By the time the last group arrived, they had all stopped asking. The last group was simply informed that the search had been a universal failure, and the sentinels began to discuss their options. 

It was, of course, possible that the Dales were just unusually barren of populated ruins. To that end, a slim majority wanted to continue their expedition northward, toward the forests of Arlathan. Others had managed to find something admirable in their observations of the Dalish; a surprising number of sentinels wanted to either attempt contact with an existing clan or adopt a lifestyle similar to the Dalish. Abelas surprised himself by supporting a third option; in their travels, it had been impossible to avoid learning about this Inquisition, led by the one who drank from the well. They had made Tarasyl'an Te'las their base of operations, and, though they had defeated their largest enemy, the organization continued to close the remaining rifts, fight lingering demons, and help to restore order. Abelas suggested that they approach the elvhen who had accompanied the Inquisitor to the temple, Solas, for answers. If nothing else, it would be good to see a familiar location that was not a crumbling ruin before crossing the Waking Sea to rejoin the group headed for the Arlathan forests. 

It would also give Abelas an opportunity to discuss the Inquisitor’s angered words at the temple with her, but he didn’t feel the need to share that information with the sentinels. He was not entirely sure why he lingered on them, himself.

In the end, the sentinels split into three groups and went their separate ways. It was not an easy parting. All of them had lived and fought together for centuries; all of them were kin in a way that no mortal could understand. However, in the end, there was no way to reconcile the desires of those who were ready to embrace their freedom, and those who sought some new duty to which to commit themselves. Oddly, Abelas was uncertain to which group he belonged.


	3. Skyhold Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sentinels arrive at Skyhold. Excitable Loranil is excitable, and grumpy Cullen is grumpy.

Ellana was first notified that something unusual was happening when she recognized Loranil’s exuberant bare-footed footsteps racing up the stairs to her room. She chuckled. Perhaps he’d managed to secure some more halla butter and wanted to make hearth cakes again? She finished finished the paragraph she was writing and was closing her inkwell when Loranil burst into the room.

“Inquisitor!” he exclaimed, grinning ear to ear, “you’ll never believe who just showed up in the courtyard!” Her heart skipped a beat. Could he have returned, after all this time? But no, even Loranil would have more tact when it came to the sensitive subject of that particular apostate elf. Her hand instinctively touched her face where her vallaslin used to be anyway.

“Empress Celene has finally succumbed to my elvhen wiles and has come to whisk me away to the Winter Palace?” she suggested. It was easy to crack jokes with him; his indomitable optimism had been greatly appreciated over these past few months, and the two had become fast friends. Loranil scoffed. 

“ _No_ ,” he said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, “Come on! I already told you you wouldn’t believe me, so come see for yourself!” He reached for her hand, and she allowed him to pull her out of her chair and down the stairs, grinning all the while. His enthusiasm was as infectious as ever. Giggling, they made their way out the front door and stepped onto the landing. “Look!” he pointed. Ellana’s jaw dropped. There, at the end of the drawbridge stood dozens of gleaming golden sentinels, with a familiar commanding figure at their front speaking to an agitated Commander Cullen. “Actual ancient elves,” he whispered, his face one of wide-eyed awe.

“You’re absolutely right, Loranil,” she gawked, “I don’t believe it!”

—

The blond shemlen confronted Abelas as he led the sentinels across the bridge. Around him, a sizeable force of Inquisition soldiers gathered. No weapons were drawn, but their collective gaze was imposing in its own way.

“Greetings, friends. I am Commander Cullen Rutherford, leader of the Inquisition’s troops. You are elves who guarded the well at the temple of Mythal, if I’m not mistaken?” Cullen’s smile was warm, but his eyes were cautious. His hand rested casually on the hilt of his sword.

“We are,” Abelas responded easily, “I am called Abelas.” Centuries of confrontations meant that he did not need to hide his anxiety; this sort of situation no longer caused him any.

“Ah, yes. The inquisitor mentioned you in her report.” Cullen’s tone was polite but clipped. “What brings you to the Inquisition, Abelas?”

“We seek the advice of the one called Solas. He was with the Inquisitor when she visited the temple.”

“Solas?” Cullen seemed genuinely surprised. “I’m afraid you’ve come too late. He left the Inquisition months ago, just after Corypheus was defeated.” Well, that was unexpected.

“I see. Where might I find him now?” Abelas inquired. Cullen sighed and lifted his palms in an exasperated gesture.

“Your guess is as good as mine. Not even our spymaster, Lady Nightingale, has been able to track him down.” Abelas frowned. Who was this Solas? The sentinels’ movements behind him were likely undetectable to the shemlen, but Abelas could sense their agitation.

“At the the temple, he said there was a place for us, if we sought it. We do not know what he meant. Did he say anything about it to you before he left?” Cullen scoffed.

“He didn’t say much of anything before he left, actually. He was gone before we made it back to Skyhold after defeating Corypheus.” 

“Before that, then; after he returned from the temple, he must have told someone,” Abelas insisted, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice, “or perhaps he left a note. There must be some record of what he meant, or where he has gone.” He strode forward, and Cullen moved to meet him in the middle of the drawbridge.

“Abelas,” Cullen said in a commanding voice, “I don’t know where you’ve been or why you’ve returned now, but I don’t appreciate attempts to reopen old wounds.” At Abelas’s blank, confused expression, Cullen sighed and continued. “Look. The Inquisitor was... close to Solas. His leaving so suddenly was very difficult for her, and she’s only just begun to recover from it. I assure you, Lady Nightingale has thoroughly examined everything he left behind. There’s nothing. No clues, no destinations, no motivation for leaving, nothing. If there were anything about some secret elvhen ruin, we’d have found it by now. So if all you and your sentinels intend to do is run around dredging up old, uncomfortable memories, I’ll kindly ask you to leave instead. Do you understand?”

Abelas did not understand at all. Why would this shem care about a few extra sets of eyes investigating the disappearance of the Inquisitor’s former paramour?

“Abelas!” The Inquisitor suddenly appeared at Cullen’s side, flanked by a grinning elf scout. “Andaran atish’an, friend,” she said, smiling. Cullen’s grimace and protective stance provided all the explanation Abelas needed; Cullen considered the Inquisitor to be kin, and was honestly trying to protect the her from a perceived threat to her mental well-being. Abelas wondered at the shem’s loyalty to an elf.

“So in conclusion,” Cullen sighed, “welcome to Skyhold.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may receive a bit more editing in the next few days, but I want to get it posted.
> 
> Checking off two requests from the original prompt:
> 
> +Abelas encounters part of the inner circle before he finds Lavellan and is told under no uncertain terms that if he makes things worse for Lavellan then he'll get his ass kicked. Abelas is not outwardly phased by this but inwardly is surprised that Lavellan has managed to inspire this kind of loyalty (especially if said IC member is a shem) 
> 
> and
> 
> ++++Somehow including Loranil, Dalish hero of Ferelden or any other elves who might benefit from or be curious about meeting Abelas. (Merrill perhaps?) 
> 
> though I intend to give Loranil some more screen time too, and I might throw in Minaeve.


End file.
